


Lola

by steepled_fingers



Category: Dark Angel
Genre: Angst, F/M, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2018-02-10 15:38:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2030592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steepled_fingers/pseuds/steepled_fingers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Made in America.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lola

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was the result of:  
> \- Biggs and Alec reminiscing about the Bolkavich job.  
> \- Then watching Dateline + reading Emergency Sex
> 
> Also, I couldn't find Biggs' designation mentioned anywhere so I just made one up for him.
> 
> I wrote this years and years ago back when Dark Angel had just finished airing.

He’s not sure what to tell her, he’s not sure how she’ll take it, so he ends up telling her something that’s close enough to the truth; that 487, or "Justin", had been sent to Chechnya. She just shrugs at him, it doesn’t matter.  _C'est la vie._  she tells him. She gets him to buy her a drink instead and they do shots late into the night until they both have to lean on each other in order to stay upright. It’s fun, the kind of fun you can only have when you’re in a war-zone.  
  
She’s very drunk, and so is he, she tells him crazy stories she says are old legends from back when this wasteland of smoke stacks and concrete was heavily wooded, back when there were castles here. She tells him one about something that was part man, part animal, a manticore in English she thinks. He pretends he doesn’t believe her, but he does, just a little.  
  
She also talks to him about music in this country: pre and post pulse. She says that everything before the pulse was American, everyone sang in English. There was no more music made in the country. She tells him about her mother’s obsession with American pop singers like J-Lo and Christina Aguilera and he pretends he knows who and what she’s talking about. Then she sings a chorus of something and he does not have to pretend her song is beautiful. She turns back to her drink and says that after the pulse there was no more Americana; no more American pop music, so they made their own music and they told each other their own stories again. But all the Americana came back, with the war, with foreign aide (here she gestures at him with an open palm and a wry smile) all the bubble-gum and style magazines any girl could want. Lola loves bubble-gum and style magazines.  
  
They stumble back to his room and when they get there she takes off her shoes and jumps on the bed until she’s too tired or too drunk to go on, so she collapses with one arm raised above her head and the other one reaching out to him. He got on the bed and she asks him in a whisper how, all of a sudden, the American boys had become so beautiful.  _How did you do that?_  Then she smiles and they have sex.  
  
Afterward, she sleepily mumbles a song into his ear, something that her mother sang to her when she was a child. He’s never heard it before but it’s soft and sweet and American. He falls asleep to it.  
  
When he wakes up she’s already gone, probably back to her own quarters. The song is still in his ears. He remembers that Lola’s mother is probably one of the bodies out in the pits.  
  
Years later, when Biggs dies and he’s in the middle of his own war, he remembers Lola with her eyeliner and her combat boots. She’s probably dead, that campaign went south pretty quickly. Now, Biggs will be with her and she’ll wrap her arms around him and sing him American songs he’s never heard in a lilting accent.  
  
End.


End file.
